


A Straight Look

by Lilliburlero



Category: The Charioteer - Mary Renault
Genre: Abortion, Class Issues, Crueltide, F/M, Homophobic Language, Literary References & Allusions, Sexism, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilliburlero/pseuds/Lilliburlero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something else for Ralph to feel guilty about. Or not.</p><p>*</p><p>Advisory: extensive but euphemistic mention of abortion, homophobic language, sexist attitudes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Straight Look

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).



> [havisham](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zeen/works) asked for something from Ralph's 'two years of women,' but I take full responsibility for the Gratuitous T.S. Eliot. The title is from 'A Game of Chess', the second part of _The Waste Land_.
> 
> with thanks to [Naraht](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Naraht/pseuds/Naraht) for advice.

Ooh, look, the snug’s empty. Brrr—shut that door behind you, Lou: don’t stand there like kine in the gateway. Ta ever so much, but I’d better get my own, I can only stop for one. Whisky mac, please, Vic. Don’t look at me all temperance, Louisa. If you had to do what I’ve to this evening you’d want a fairly stiff one too. I'm going round Lil's, you see. Lor’—don’t you _know_? Sit down and I’ll tell you—ta Vic—you what? Daylight blooming robbery I call that—

Honest, Lou, you didn’t hear about Lil? You should go into the chemist and get some olive oil for those ears of yours—well, didn’t she go and get herself into trouble? Well, not quite herself, it does take two, after all. Oh _heck_ —you know the one, the merchant seaman. I did tell her, girl in every port and all that—though, actually, as it happens— _not_. Did you ever meet him?—well, I thought he was queer. Ugh, Lou, you grubby article—not queer like _that._ Otherwise she’d hardly be in the fix she is, would she? See sense. No, I mean _queer_ queer. Funny peculiar, like. What’s a fella with a toffee-nosed voice like his doing working tramp steamers? Something fishy there, or my name’s not—oh, ha ha, fishy. He was a gentleman, mind. Always treat you, he would. Just something like—there’s a song my aunt Bridie sings— _and one had a sorrow/that never was said_ —that’s a line in it. Like that.

Anyway, apparently he was ashore when she found out for certain and didn’t she go and tell him, the silly little dumb-bell? And she says he just looked at her like he’d kill her, as long as he didn’t have to touch her to do it. She nearly upped and ran, except when she was almost half out her seat she somehow caught the nippy’s eye—it was in the Lyons Corner House, they were—and she had her pride, which you can understand. And by the time she’d had time to sit herself back down he was over it and looking down into his tea and stammering something like _one can do the thing by licence, I believe_.

_Well_. There always was a streak of mischief in Lil, weren’t there, some might say cruel, not that _I’m_ saying that. But he’d gave her that much of a fright she thought she’d let him twist in the wind a minute. And the way he looked— _dog-sick_ was _her_ phrase—she says, it was almost worth all the bother to see it. I think it’s not quite decent of her to say so, but I know what she meant. I suppose it’s the only thing we really do have over them, isn’t it? So she puts him out of his misery and says it’s all right, she knows someone who’ll take care of it—and do you know what? Well, I thought she might’ve been embroidering a bit, but she said on her honour, whatever that’s worth, at first he thought she meant, you know, take care of it like a nursemaid—do you think a bloke who’d seen a bit of the world could be that dense? Well, maybe you’re right, thinking of your Jim— _joke_ , pipe down. So then he catches on and he says _I understand the procedure costs about a hundred pounds. I haven’t got a hundred pounds. I might be able to raise twenty._

I won’t tell you what Lil said to me then, it isn’t nice. But she couldn’t do it to him—well, you couldn’t, could you? Anyway, he’d be bound to find out. So she says _well, lucky for you Mrs Glew only charges two then, isn’t it?_ She was expecting he’d be all stiff-necked, at least for show, like, but he went and gave it to her there and then—well for her she'd caught ahold of him before he'd blued every penny—and she says she didn’t quite know exactly how she felt about _that,_ though of course she didn’t want to have to talk him round neither, especially if it was all just my eye. 

And, she says, suddenly it was as if he was a different man. Naturally, I say, he’d be relieved she hadn’t kicked up a fuss and was looking after the business herself—and she says no, it was more like he saw her for the first time as if she was a human being, and not just as a set of manoeuvres, and I say I wouldn’t be so sure of that, not with a sailor, and she laughs and says _fair enough_ and anyway then, she says, he loosened up proper like he hadn't since they—well, since they met, and he told her a story about a ship he’d been on where the mate had gone stark ravers and started throwing knives about. As I say, funny peculiar and there’s no accounting. So they seem to have parted on friendly terms, like, no hard feelings or second thoughts. Could’ve been worse, I suppose, though I wouldn’t wish the consequences on anyone, let alone a lively little— _never mind_. She should’ve had more sense.

So that’s where I’m off to now—blimey, is that the time? Mrs Glew’s got an awful dose, so Vee’s on her own. Mmm, first one, though she done it heaps of times with her mam, like—I think she wants the moral support as much as anything. Wouldn’t be in Lil’s shoes, all the same, not for all the tea in China. Come on then, Lou, get it down you, never mind the taste—the iron’ll do you good, because you have been looking peaky, you know. Where’re you going? Pictures? Is Jim taking you? _The Gay Divorcée_ , eh?  Sounds riskay, but I bet it’s not. Oh, _she’s_ lovely—what beautiful gowns—but I think he’s got an odd bony head on him, for all he might be able to cha-cha-cha.  Ta, Vic, yes, got to dash—can't be falling down on an errand of mercy—why, you cheeky so-and-so, I’ll have you know I—oh, go on with you.  Good night May, good night Bill—ta ta—good night, good night, goo’night—

**Author's Note:**

> The song allegedly sung by the speaker's aunt Bridie is 'She Moved Through the Fair.' Padraic Colum published his version of this lyric, based on traditional material, in 1916: whether the Colum lyrics were being sung in the mid-1930s I've been unable to verify, but I think it can just about pass muster.


End file.
